Like A Shibe
by Kimberly-A
Summary: After TATINOF, Phil's feeling insecure about how fans think of him compared to how they think of Dan. Why didn't he ever get to be drawn like a French girl in the stage show? Dan's always the sexy one. Dan tries to reassure him.


It was past 3 a.m. when Phil shuffled into the lounge in his Star Wars pyjama bottoms and a plain blue t-shirt, rubbing sleepily at the impressive quiff his hair had formed.

Dan was in his browsing position, comfortably settled into the sofa crease like he never wanted to leave again. The tour had been an incredible experience, but it was really good to be home again, and he was soaking up all the homeness of it. It wasn't a tour bus, it wasn't a hotel room, it wasn't a dressing room in an unfamiliar venue ... it was **their** flat, and **their** lounge, and **their** sofa, and **his** sofa crease. He felt like he never wanted to move again. His spine had simply melted into its old accustomed shape and he felt truly **comfortable** for the first time in months. He was HOME. God it felt good!

But Phil wasn't usually up wandering around at this hour, and Dan had thought he'd gone to bed hours ago. "Can't sleep?" he asked, only half paying attention and looking back down at his laptop screen.

Phil made a noncommittal grumbling noise and flopped down at the other end of the sofa, pulling his long legs up and hugging his knees like a little kid. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice husky with sleep.

Dan turned his laptop so Phil could see the screen and replied, "Rebranding." A bunch of pastel-toned photos were open on the desktop.

Phil nodded, distracted, and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, then wrapped his arms around his legs again, looking into the empty fire grate.

A comfortable silence descended, and Dan opened a Tumblr window, scrolling mindlessly until Phil's silence started to feel a bit strange. "You want to watch a movie or something?" Dan asked, looking over at him, but Phil just shook his head, still looking into the grate with a morose look on his face. Okay, something was going on. Dan set the laptop aside. "What's up?"

"Can I borrow your laptop?" Phil asked quietly. Perplexed, Dan nodded and handed it over. Phil's sleepy fingers stumbled over the keyboard for a moment, and then he said, "3,805,148 subscribers." He typed again for a moment, then said more quietly, "6,123,811. Nearly twice as many."

Dan sighed, almost embarrassed. "That doesn't matter, Phil. We're both doing well, right? Those people screaming on the tour weren't there to see **me** —they were there to see **us**. You have loads of loyal viewers." The rate at which Dan's channel had been surpassing Phil's in popularity was something they hadn't talked about much. Here he was, Phil Trash #1, and with a more successful channel than his former idol. It seemed almost surreal sometimes.

Phil nodded his head slowly, handing the laptop back and looking away again. Dan expected him to say something more, but silence fell again. They both just sat for a while, Dan not looking at his laptop screen but instead at his friend's miserable face, which was turned away from him.

"This isn't about subscriber numbers, is it?" he asked softly. Suddenly the quiet of the late-night flat felt intimate, and he didn't want to break the mood. He wanted Phil to talk to him.

Phil shrugged and did not look at him. Dan held his tongue. Eventually, Phil quietly mumbled, "I'm just ... I'm not like you."

Frowning, Dan said, "Um ... in what way? You're the most like me of anybody I've ever met. I've never had somebody I could play Mario Kart with **and** watch questionable anime **and** laugh at stupid puns **and** ..." but Phil interrupted him.

"People don't come to my channel because of how I look. I mean, that's not the only reason people like your videos, but ... I mean I'm not ... I'm like ... pudding. Everybody likes pudding, but it's just sort of sweet and bland and ... uncomplicated. Subscribers look at me and see ... I'm like a 6-foot-tall child." Dan felt guilty for having thought only minutes ago that Phil curling up on the couch had looked child-like. There **was** something child-like about the other man, but it was a charming part of his personality, always had been. His sense of wonder and joy was part of what made him so ... Phil.

Phil finally looked at him. "You've read the YouTube comments. You've seen the Tumblr posts. People think you're hot. They tell you to take up modeling. They freak out when you show your collar bones in your live show. They want to ... do things to you." He looked away into the fire grate again and sighed. "Your fans want to fuck you, Dan. Be honest. And my fans call me an 'angel bean' and say I'm 'adorable' and want to give me 'squishy hugs.' I'm not hot. I'm not ... you." Dan didn't know what to say, but Phil continued before he came up with anything. "I'm like ... I'm like a fucking **SHIBE** , Dan."

Dan couldn't help it—he laughed. "You bare/b kind of like a shibe," but then he felt bad for saying it when he saw how Phil's expression became even more downcast.

"You're saying you want to be some kind of ... sex symbol or something?" Dan wasn't quite sure where Phil was going with this.

Phil shrugged again. The shrugs were starting to annoy Dan, since they didn't communicate much and it was clear that Phil was hurting. He wanted to understand, wanted to be able to help. Phil was always there for him when he fell into an "existential crisis," but it wasn't often he got the chance to return the favor. Phil just wasn't usually the deeply reflective sort or prone to falling into funks. That's why this whole thing was so awkward. Dan wasn't used to playing the supportive role. Phil was always there for him, but was he always there for Phil? He thought he was, but now he was questioning his own quality as a friend. Well, even if he hadn't always been there for Phil in the same way Phil was there for him, he obviously had a chance tonight.

Phil was determinedly not looking at him now, turning his face even further away, but Dan could see that his ears were tinged with red. Phil was blushing.

"When we were planning TATINOF, and we were writing the fanfic scene, we never even talked about which of us would pose seductively and get 'drawn like a French girl' ... it was just obvious that it would be you. Nobody wants to see **me** laid out like an underwear model. Especially not when it could be **you** instead."

Now it was Dan who was blushing. Phil was right. They'd never questioned which of them would play the model in that scenario, but it had always been Dan who'd played up the cheeky sex symbol act ... but he'd been doing it **ironically**. The sexy end screen dance had never been intended to be **actually** sexy—it had been purposely awkward, because that's how he'd always seen himself. He didn't consider himself particularly good-looking or sexy, but he could play the role. But he remembered the few times he'd insisted that Phil do the sexy end screen dance, and how uncomfortable he had clearly been. Phil wasn't the greatest actor in the world, and it wasn't as easy for him to pretend a confidence he didn't feel, especially in front of the camera. It had never occurred to Dan how hurtful it must have been that they'd never even mentioned the possibility of Phil doing the cheeky model bit in the show. It was sort of humiliating, now that Dan thought about it. Like they just **assumed** Dan was the only one who the audience might consider sexy.

"Phil, we both play roles for our subscribers, right? We don't show them everything about ourselves. Maybe you showed more sides of yourself in the early years, but now you tend to stick to a more innocent sort of persona, with the not swearing and such. And it's not like you're lying to anybody—that's part of who you are—and everybody loves that part of you—but that doesn't mean that's **all** you are. I mean, I know who you really are, and I know that you swear, and that you tell dirty jokes, and that you ... um ... you know ... think about sex. Watch porn. That sort of thing." He was trailing off now, getting even more embarrassed. They didn't usually talk about this sort of thing. Over the years, their early flirtatious banter had evolved into an unspoken agreement to respect each other's privacy when it came to that part of their lives.

Phil hunched his shoulders, obviously getting more embarrassed in turn. It wasn't often that your housemate commented on your porn-watching habits.

Dan couldn't restrain a quiet, uncomfortable laugh. "I mean ... Phil ... have you **watched** your 'Toxic' video? Have you noticed how many views it has?" He opened his laptop again and went to YouTube. "Come here," he insisted. Phil scooted nearer on the sofa, seeming reluctant but curious. Dan angled the screen toward him and typed "AmazingPhil" into the search bar. The first suggested completion was "amazingphil toxic." Dan looked at him, smirking, eyebrows raised. "Viewers aren't just wanting to see your lion in that video, you know." Phil looked away, blushing again.

"That was a long time ago," Phil pointed out.

"That's just my point," Dan insisted. "You've chosen to emphasize the shibe part of you lately, but that doesn't mean that's all people see. Or **want** to see."

A silence descended again, Phil staring at the ground, seeming deep in thought, while Dan watched his face.

"We're rebranding, right? Maybe AmazingPhil's bare chest should start making appearances in your videos again. Maybe you could ... let your 'sexy French girl' side show a bit more." Jesus, this was a blush-fest. Dan's face was burning.

Phil glanced back at him, smirking now. "You think I have a 'sexy French girl' side?"

Dan rolled his eyes. "Haven't you been listening to anything I've been saying? I know what you're like in real life, and I know those 'accidental' innuendoes you make in our collab videos aren't **all** accidental. I think on some level you **want** to let your subscribers see the non-shibe Phil again. And they definitely want to see it. I mean, have you seen the fanfic?"

Phil frowned now. "The fanfic? Like that one we read in the Tumblr tag video, with the ... the ... skin?" Phil was cringing now.

Dan laughed. "They aren't all like that. And ... I've gotta tell you, Phil ... when fans write about us, you're usually the aggressor, sexually I mean."

Phil's eyebrows went up so high Dan wondered if they might disappear into his hairline. "You've been reading sex fics about us?"

Fuck. Dan's head was going to explode from all the blood rushing to it if he didn't get this conversation under control. Or end it. Yep, that would be best. Just end the conversation as quickly as possible. He didn't answer for a long moment, but then remembered that he'd been trying to make a point, trying to make Phil feel better about himself. Being good friend Dan. Yep.

"Yeah, so? And ... uh ... you pretty much always top. That's what the fans imagine. So I don't think they see you as a total shibe."

Phil looked away again, but this time Dan was pretty sure it was to hide a smile. "You read sexy fanfic about us." He looked back at Dan with one eyebrow raised. "With me topping." He smirked again, then asked slyly, "Did you like it?"

This time it was Dan's eyebrows that shot up. "Uh," he stammered. Fuck! How much was he supposed to reveal here? Sure, they'd flirted a lot in the early days, but he'd gotten the impression that Phil didn't want to take it further than that, and he'd always respected Phil's decision and had just dropped it. That had been years ago. Not that Dan's feelings had ever changed, but he'd thought Phil wanted to let it go. So he'd let it go.

Now it was Dan who was looking away. Suddenly the carpet in the lounge was utterly fascinating. Phil scooted closer on the sofa, so that their sides were touching.

Dan glanced over at him, and the expression on Phil's face was serious now. "I wouldn't **always** have to top, you know." Dan's jaw dropped.

"Are you ... do you want to ... Phil, are you just trying to prove you aren't a shibe? Because this isn't funny."

Phil shook his head slightly, holding Dan's gaze, the pupils in his eyes large now, eclipsing most of the clear blue, despite the fact that Dan had all the lights on in the lounge. Dan couldn't look away. Was this really happening?

Their faces weren't that far apart now, and so Phil didn't have to lean that far before their lips were touching. It was tentative at first—they'd never gotten this far, even back when they were flirting shamelessly—but then Phil's lips pressed more firmly against his and Dan opened his mouth a bit, letting his tongue slip out for just a moment. Phil groaned and lifted his hands into Dan's hair, holding him gently as he deepened the kiss.

After a long moment, Dan broke away, breathing hard, and stared hard into Phil's eyes. "You aren't just trying to prove something?"

Phil's smirk reappeared. "Well, I must admit you've convinced me that a bit of rebranding wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, but ... I've been wanting to do this for years. I just didn't think you wanted it. Wanted **me**. Like this."

Slipping his own hands into Phil's sleep-mussed hair, Dan breathed against his lips, "I do. I always have." And then they were kissing again, mouths hungry and wet, tongues exploring with desperation. Dan's skinny jeans were growing increasingly uncomfortable and he envied Phil the looseness of his pyjama pants. "Want to ... uh ... relocate?"

Phil pulled away to look at him. "Bedroom?"

As they eagerly traversed the hallway on their way to Phil's room, Dan chuckled, "Do you have any idea how many times I've watched that 'Toxic' video?" and Phil laughed.


End file.
